The Ice Queen of Slytherin
by Annamia
Summary: Pansy always considered her role as councilor to the younger Slytherin girls a formality. But when a young muggle-born accuses older students of abusing her, Pansy realizes that things have been going on without her knowledge. Rated for rape. No femslash.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: _hi, it's kyra. this is a collective story, like all of our longer ones, but you'll mostly be talking to me, i think. not because it's my kind of story, but because i've missed you and want to be the one talking.  
so, here i am, armed with the first chapter of a new story. and yes, it is a finished story. you will be getting one chapter a day for fourteen days, counting today. they're short chapters, unfortunately, but at least you know when you'll get the next one! i don't want to do any more explaining, since you will be able to read the story, so all that remains is for me to wish you happy reading and promise to see you tomorrow.  
--kyra  
disclaimer: i think ms. rowling capitalizes when she writes. which means that i am almost certainly not her. which means that i own nothing except my own laziness. oh, and by the way, speaking of capitalization (we're done disclaiming now, by the way), i do apologize if i missed any in the actual story. we wrote it on nanowritool, which is like notepad but cooler, and has no spell check. which means no automatic capitalization. i tried to find them all, but if i missed some, i apologize. ditto for spelling mistakes. please, do not hesitate to point them out, and they will be annihilated.

* * *

1

Pansy

Pansy watched passively as Draco kissed Daphne Greengrass, never once letting on, except to herself, just how much that hurt her. Could he not see how much she loved him? Could he not tell that she lived only for him, for his glance and for his attention? Of course not. Of course he could not know that. She had never told him. She had never had the strength to tell him how much she needed him, how much she loved him.

Yes, love. Pansy loved him with all of her calculating and cynical heart. Not that she admitted it in public, of course. The Ice Queen of Slytherin did not love. She was not capable of such an emotion. Pansy loved, but her persona did not. That was something no one understood, not even her fellow snakes. The Ice Queen was not Pansy, she was simply the mask Pansy wore in society. Of course, they all wore masks too, masks of ice or of fire, of youth or of age. No one showed their true face, not even those who thought they did. Sometimes, in the dark of night, Pansy wondered if anyone actually knew who they were anymore. In the depths of her cynical self, she doubted it.

But even if other people did not see through her mask, Pansy knew, and she hated it. She hated that she could not banish her emotions, her love for Draco to a place where no one, not even she, would find it. She hated that she could not let it go, that she could not become the persona she had perfected. Life would be simpler if she were simply the Ice Queen, if she did not constantly have to pretend, have to act.

Draco pulled away from Daphne, and she moaned slightly. Pansy glared at her, disgusted. She had probably never been kissed before, what with her lack of both figure and family connections. Pansy wondered what Draco saw in the twig-like girl who had neither fortune nor good name to bring to anything.

He laughed, and caressed Daphne's hair, brushing a kiss across her lips. Pansy turned away, unable to bear any more of this. Abruptly, she rose from her seat and strode out of the common room, into the rest of the castle. As she stalked through the empty corridors, she hoped for a few first years to abuse. Preferably Gryffindor first years.

She did not find them, though she looked. She sneered, as she realized what this meant. It meant that the Gryffindor firsties were too chicken to wander the school after hours. And they prided themselves on being brave. Had she seen any, she would have scoffed at them. Though, if she had seen any, it would have ruined her case. She ignored this, and continued to roam, wondering how long it would take for her to regain the strength of mind to return to Slytherin. She did not fear being caught: Professor Snape would not do anything to her, and she did not credit any other teacher with the ability to see her when she did not want to be seen.

Pansy turned a corner at random, not really paying attention to where she was going. Suddenly, she stopped dead, pressing herself against the wall as three figures walked past her. The golden trio. What were they doing up?

"You're being irrational about this," Weasley said, his voice a harsh whisper. "You're the one who's all logical and everything. Why can't you see this properly?"

"Irrational?" Granger hissed. "and how am I being irrational, Ronald?"

"if you would just think this through, you would realize that you have no say in what I do. you don't control me, you know."

"I am not asking to control you," Granger snarled in a whisper. "I am simply asking that you be a decent person, if you're capable of that, and refrain from cheating on me. Especially with her."

"I wasn't cheating on you!" he insisted. "Lav and I are just friends, that's all. We were talking!"

"Talking does not usually involve kissing," Granger informed him coldly

"Guys, can you please save this for later, such as when we're back in the common room?" Potter interjected. "We're going to get caught!"

They passed out of hearing ranger before Pansy could hear any more, but she did not care. She knew that her eyes were sparkling gleefully. Wait until she told Draco about this! He would see her then, would realize that she was so much better than stupid Daphne, who had nothing to offer someone like him. Still grinning, Pansy turned away and made her way swiftly back to the common room.

* * *

_extra author's note:_ we've had lots of people (well, some) as about Keepers of Wisdom. we regret to inform you that we are discontinuing that version of the story. we have another, better version that we are working on, but it's shaping up to be long, and may take us a while to finish. we're debating whether or not just to start posting it anyway, but then we're afraid that we'll fall into the trap we always do, which is to just forget about it forever. so we'll get back to you about it.  
--kyra


	2. Chapter 2

_author's note: _yeah... sorry for not posting this yesterday. we all somehow managed to be busy and forget, or, in my case, fall asleep. so here is yesterday's chapter. today's chapter will be posted tomorrow morning. promise. and, yes, tomorrow's chapter will also be posted tomorrow. in the evening.  
what else? um, there's a bit of language in this chapter. not much, but some. you have been fairly warned.  
thank you to our reviewers. we love you!  
--kyra  
_disclaimer:_ please accept my word when i tell you that i am not ms. rowling, nor do i own harry potter. if i did, then i'd be able to get both a laptop and a do-gi without having to throw myself at the mercy of my elders. not to mention that package of nano merit badges that i want and am afraid to ask for.

* * *

2

Hermione

Hermione hoped that her roommates did not hear her crying into her pillow. She thought she was being good at muffling the noise she made, but it could just be that they were so used to her crying that they did not even notice any longer. After all, Hermione had been doing this rather frequently as of late, and people could get used to just about anything. She shook the thought away, trying to get Parvati and Lavender -- especially Lavender -- out of her head. She did not want to think about them. Not now, not ever.

She held her breath, checking one last time to make certain that they really were asleep. If they were not, then they were doing an exceedingly good job of hiding their wakefulness, and Hermione found that she did not care. Satisfied, she went back to crying and feeling sorry for herself. Unfortunately, it did not seem to help, and she was as miserable now as she had been before she started crying, hours before. Still, she could not bring herself to stop, nor could she contemplate what she would do in the morning. Indeed, she could not contemplate what to do now. Hermione's mind was locked in at one thirty two and twelve seconds this afternoon, when she had walked in on her boyfriend and his "friend" kissing passionately in the room of requirement. Why the room had chosen to show them to her, she did not know, and, quite frankly, she did not care. All she cared about was that she had seen them, and that Ron had been no help at all.

Time ticked, and Hermione cried into her pillow. Slowly, raggedly, she fell asleep, exhausted by anger and sorrow. She was still crying when she woke, and she seriously considered not going to class. No one would begrudge her one sick day... would they?

She sighed as she realized that, even if no one else did, she would blame herself for that loss of one day of education. So she rose, forcing herself to change and at least brush her hair. Glancing at herself in the full length mirror that Parvati had hung on the wall, she saw that her almost sleepless night had not been kind. She was distraught, and it showed. Longingly, she cast a glance at Parvati's many beauty products, thinking that there must be some concealer in there. Unfortunately, Parvati's skin was several tones darker than Hermione's, and she could not even imagine stooping so low as to ask Lavender for help. She would die before she asked Lavender for help, especially if it involved makeup. So she would just suck it up and go to class looking like this. Let them talk; she could care less what they thought. And that included her so called friends.

Growling at the thought of said so called friends, Hermione opened the door and walked down the stairs. She went straight through the common room without stopping, ignoring Harry, who tried to catch up with her. Had this been a comic book, there would have been a black thundercloud over her head, warning people to stay away. Even without such visual cues, Harry got the message, and dropped behind, allowing Hermione to make her way undisturbed to the library, her sanctuary. Madam Pince did not care what she looked like, just so long as she did not damage the books.

She stayed hiding in the back corner of the library until class started, and even then had to force herself to get up and go. Thankfully, the class in question was potions -- the one time in her life Hermione had actually been glad to go to potions -- and neither Harry nor Ron dared ask her what was wrong. As though they could not guess. they were the ones who had caused this, Ron by being a lying, cheating bastard, and Harry by... well, she wasn't so certain how Harry was to blame, but he must be, somehow. everyone was to blame, somehow.

Class came and went. Hermione supposed that she must have produced a passable potion, since Snape's parting glare was no worse than usual, but she had no recollection of the actual brewing of said potion. Vaguely, she thanked her ability to work on auto-pilot, allowing her mind to wander off and feel sorry for herself without allowing her class work to suffer.

At lunch, she sat on her own, looking down at her food and ignoring everything. She had only come to the great hall because her body informed her that it wanted food _now_. Had she had her way, she would have been back in the library. But her body was deaf to her mind's sorrows, and so Hermione, against her will, went to , because she was so focused on not crying in public, especially when she caught a glimpse of Ron and Lavender sitting next to each other, she did not notice the Slytherins closing in on her until too late.

"Well, what do we have here?" a hated voice sneered, far too close to her.

Hermione ignored Malfoy, hoping that he would go away. It was a fool's hope, she knew, but she could not help wishing. It was not the kind of day which was conducive to the granting of wishes.

"Did your muggle loving boyfriend dump you for someone better?" Malfoy sneered. "Took him long enough, though, granted, your replacement isn't much better."

"Shut up," Hermione gritted. "I don't want to talk to you."

He laughed, and she itched to punch him, to knock the grin off his face and the laughter out of his voice. "She doesn't want to talk to us," he mocked. "Listen to that, the mudblood doesn't want to talk to us!"

Hermione whirled, glaring at him. "I said, shut up!" she screamed. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want you to talk to me, and I don't give a flaming fuck what you think about that."

Malfoy gaped at her for a moment, then recovered his usual presence. "Language, mudblood," he said coldly, coming closer. "Or I'll have to teach you respect for your betters myself."

Hermione's wand was out and pointed before she realized her intention. If she could hazard a guess, she would say that she looked fairly crazy, glaring at him, face red from last night's self-indulgence, and wand pointed directly at his chest. "Get away," she spat. "All of you. I don't want to talk to you ever again. Do you hear me?" Her voice was rising again. "Ever again!"

He did not move, and she rose, almost incoherent with fury and anguish. "Do you hear me?" she shrieked. "Get out!"

Something in her voice made him, finally, back up. "Be careful where you point that thing, Granger," he warned. "You could hurt someone!"

"I know exactly where I want it pointed," she screamed. "And it's at you!"

"Let's get out of here, Draco," Pansy Parkinson said suddenly. She shot Hermione a look filled with loathing. "Let the little mudblood have her tantrum without witnesses."

Malfoy nodded, also sneering at Hermione. they turned and strode away, laughing as they went back to their table. Hermione watched them go, thoughts still incoherent and scattered.

"Er, Hermione?" someone asked hesitantly. "You don't have to keep your wand up, you know."

She did not even know who it was who addressed her, but it broke the barriers down, barriers she had been constructing much of the day. sudden tears blinded her as she turned and ran out of the great hall, heading for her one sanctuary. Safe in the restricted section of the library, she collapsed, crying silently so as not to disturb madam Pince. She did not emerge for the rest of the day, not caring what other people thought.


	3. Chapter 3

_authors note_: so... this is the update i promised for this morning. -sigh- my alarm went off at five, the way it was supposed to, but i didn't get up the way _i_ was supposed to, and so didn't have time to come on here and post. and i have the final version of the story, so none of the others could post for me. besides, they don't set their alarms for five.  
anyhow, this chapter three, and chapter 4 will be up in a couple hours. i'm good at staying up late, so that one will definitely be up, and then we'll be back on track.  
--kyra  
_disclaimer:_ were i ms. rowling, i would commission a time machine and travel back in time to see Notre Dame de Paris live. unfortunately, i am not her, and thus do not possess the means to do such a thing. -sigh- (that means i own nothing!)

* * *

3

Pansy

Pansy felt as though she were reliving the past as she watched Draco kissing Daphne. 'They could at least be subtle about it,' she thought bitterly, watching the two of them fondle each other, oblivious to the people around them. Not that the people around them watched with any great interest. Thought such things were not overly common in Slytherin, people learned early and well to keep their eyes to themselves and ignore the doings of others... or at least seem to. Pansy had learned the lesson as well as anyone, and was careful not to be caught watching Draco and Daphne.

Searching for something else to think about, something that would distract her from the spectacle before her, she latched onto Granger. Though pansy would never admit it, she had felt almost sorry for Granger at lunchtime, and almost regretted telling Draco about her predicament. Not entirely, because that would involve emotions that Pansy did not admit to possessing, but slightly. She comforted herself by pointing out that Draco would have picked on her anyway, but she could not help feeling ever so slightly guilty.

That was unacceptable. Rising from her seat, Pansy retired to her study, closing the door and activating her silencing spells. She did not need to hear anything out there. If there was a real problem, one of her girls would find her. She sat herself in a chair, staring into the mirror she has placed above her desk. She did not like what she saw, nor did she ever. Pansy had no illusions about her own beauty: she would never compare to most of the girls at school, baring certain anomalies such as Granger. Still, her figure was voluptuous, which, as she well knew, went a long way to making up for her lack of actual beauty and, even more importantly, Pansy's family tree was long and impressive, and her bank account was large. She would make a perfect match for someone when she graduated, and she knew it well. The problem was, her intended groom did not.

Pansy sighed and turned away from the mirror, looking around at the sparsely furnished room. She had inherited the study from the previous seventh year girl's prefect, and smiled despite herself as she remembered Elaina Doyle's insistence that Pansy take good care of the room. It was a good room, Pansy admitted, though it did not compare to her room at home. sSe wished there were a way to sleep here, and wondered, as she had done many times previously, how to go about convincing the house elves to furnish it appropriately. If only she were at her house, where all the elves had to do what she told them to. Here, they only looked at her and bowed their heads apologetically, saying that they were not permitted to carry out Miss Pansy Parkinson's request, and was there anything else they could do for her?

A knock sounded on the door, and Pansy sighed. She glanced in the mirror to make certain that she was as presentable as ever, then rose to open it. Melina Gamp, a second year, stood there, tears in her eyes. With a sigh, Pansy invited her in, longing for the days when Elaina had dealt with this kind of thing. Even as she knew that it was the prefect's job to care for and look after the younger students, she hated actually having to do it.

"What's wrong?" she asked, gesturing for Melina to take a seat. The little black haired girl did, not saying anything.

Pansy waited, wondering how long it would take to coax the story out of Melina. This was not the first time the girl had come to her, and Pansy had yet to make out exactly why she needed help.

The silence stretched on, and at last Pansy asked, "Would tea help?"

Melina nodded, and Pansy moved to get the tea things ready, grateful to have something to do. As she worked, she brought her mind back to Melina's previous visits, trying to figure out what the girl could possibly want this time. When the tea finally finished brewing, Pansy was no closer to knowing than she had been before, and it was with a sigh that she returned to her seat, handing Melina's cup to the girl.

Melina took it and held it, not drinking.

"What happened?" Pansy asked again.

Melina shook her head, the tears still coming.

"Melina, I'm sorry you're sad, but I can't help you unless you tell me why."

At last, the girl managed, "They're hurting me!"

Pansy's eyes widened. This was the closest to a blunt statement she had ever gotten out of Melina, and it was a serious one. "Who is hurting you?" she asked.

"Them!" Melina wailed.

That was not helpful in the least.

"Who?" Pansy repeated. "Do you know any names?"

Melina shook her head. "Bigger people," she said vaguely.

"What did they do to you?" Melina did not look injured, but Pansy knew very well that not all injuries were immediately visible to the eye.

"Called me a muggle," Melina said.

"Is that all?"

She shook her head.

"What else?"

Melina did not answer. For once, Pansy did not press her. Instead, she wracked her brain, trying to think of who in her house would prey on a younger girl, even a muggle born one. Unfortunately, the answer came out to be quite a few people.

Finally, Melina whispered, "They... they touched me."

Pansy stilled. The list of people she had been thinking of shrank very rapidly, going down to almost no one. Cursing a girl was unacceptable, but understandable. This? Pansy could not even imagine that such things were going on in her house. How could she not have noticed? And how long had this been going on? She cast her mind back, trying to remember when Melina had first come to her. The beginning of the year, and Elaina said that she had been coming even before that. Why had neither of them noticed anything? And why did Melina still come?

Pansy looked over at the girl, who was still crying. "Melina, look at me," she said firmly.

Melina looked up.

"I'm going to help you," Pansy said firmly. "It won't happen again."

Melina looked down. "It always happens," she said faintly.

"It won't anymore," Pansy assured her. "I promise."

"Elaina promised too."

"Elaina isn't here anymore. I am. Melina, look at me. It won't keep going."

Melina did look at her, but Pansy could see that the girl did not believe her. It did not matter. What mattered was that Pansy put a stop to it, immediately. She rose.

"You can stay here," she told Melina. "And if you're in trouble, you can always come here. The password is Darcy."

Melina looked up, surprised. "Darcy?" she repeated.

Pansy nodded, wondering if she would understand the reference. Most did not, but Melina was muggle born.

Sure enough, "Elizabeth's Darcy?"

Pansy nodded. "Elizabeth's Darcy," she agreed. She left the room then, not allowing Melina to voice her reaction to that. Going back into the common room, Pansy saw that Draco and Daphne were no longer making out in the center of the common room. That was good, because she had something to say.

"Draco," she announced, stopping directly in front of them. Daphne scowled at her, but Pansy ignored her year-mate.

"What do you want?" Draco demanded.

"We need to talk," Pansy informed him flatly. "Now."


	4. Chapter 4

_author's note: _wow, i didn't realize how short this chapter was. guess this is what comes of counting in pages not words. lots of dialog makes for more pages. -grins-  
and it is now midnight oh two in the morning, and i'm tired, so i won't go on any longer.  
--kyra  
_disclaimer: _since i assume you will be reading this at a more suitable time, i trust that you will insert your own witty and appropriate disclaimer here.

* * *

4

Hermione

Hermione scowled as a shadow fell across the page she was reading. Expecting Ron or Harry, she looked up, an acidic remark ready on her tongue. To her surprise and intense displeasure, it was neither Harry nor Ron, but Pansy Parkinson, who stood stiffly before her.

"Go away," Hermione snapped. "I have nothing to say to you."

"No, I have something to tell you," Pansy snapped back. "And it is in my capacity as prefect, and yours as head girl, so I would appreciate it if you would take your nose out of that book for a few moments and hear me out."

Hermione frowned. What did Pansy mean, her capacity as head girl? "What do you need?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?" Pansy asked dryly.

"I did not realize that you required an invitation to sit," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

"I follow custom," Pansy said coldly. "Custom dictates that one does not sit until one is invited to so."

"Then, by all means, sit if it will make your stay shorter," Hermione said.

Pansy sat, and, thankfully, wasted no time in telling her story. "Yesterday evening, one of my second year girls came to me telling me that she had been abused by some older students for her muggle heritage."

Hermione's breath stilled, but she said nothing as Pansy continued.

"Pressing revealed that such abuse was sexual, and Draco has told me that none of the Slytherin boys did this. I have made certain that none of the girls of my house are implicated either, which leads me to believe that the abuse was propagated by students of other houses. As I have no authority over other houses and you do, I felt the need to alert you, so that you may take precautions as needed."

Hermione nodded, frantically trying to think of anyone, anyone at all, who could be capable of such a thing. "How old is..."

"Melina Gamp," Pansy finished. "12."

"12?" Hermione repeated.

"That is what I said," Pansy said coldly.

"And you are certain it is no one from Slytherin?"

"I would hardly have come to speak with you if I could have dealt with it internally," Pansy informed her.

Hermione nodded. "Thank you for telling me," she said. "I'll see what I can find out. have you told Professor Snape?"

Pansy shook her head. "I was going to after I had spoken with you."

Hermione nodded again. "All right. I'll talk to Padma and Susan and Professor McGonagall. Working together, we should be able to find out something, at least."

Pansy rose. "Good," she said. she paused, then added, "I would appreciate it if you would use discretion in revealing her name and age. This is hard enough for her already without her having to face gossip as well."

Hermione nodded yet again. "I will be discrete," she promised.

"Then I will speak to you later," Pansy said, striding away. Hermione watched her go, still reeling from the shock of what she had been told. A student, a _female _student, abused under her watch? Hermione could hardly believe that this was happening. She stood moments later, banishing the book she had been reading back to its place on the shelf before walking out herself to find her fellow seventh year girl's prefects and alert Professor McGonagall.


	5. Chapter 5

_author's note: _i have very little to say about this chapter. i'm not overly fond of it, but i don't hate it either. i did think i should mention that the entire story was written within, i believe, two days, which, while it helped with consistency, may not have done much for the quality of the ideas. yes, we did some editing, but we left the general concepts alone, which explains why some of the more obvious solutions for finding the culprits don't come up: we didn't give ourselves time to think about them. besides, then there wouldn't have been a plot. -nods earnestly-  
--kyra  
_disclaimer: _ms. rowling owns everything including pansy, hermione, and a certain ferret incident.

* * *

5

Pansy

"Miss Parkinson, please tell us how you discovered the abuse," Professor McGonagall said, looking grim.

Pansy repeated Melina's story, leaving the girl's name out of it. Granger seemed to have kept her promise; none of the people present in the headmaster's office seemed to know the person to which she was referring, only that she was a younger Slytherin student.

"And you had no knowledge of this until yesterday?" Professor McGonagall wanted to know.

"If I had, I would have spoken up sooner," Pansy said stiffly.

Professor McGonagall nodded. she turned to the other two prefects and Granger. "Have any of you had any reports of such abuse at all?"

Granger and Susan bones shook their heads, but the Ravenclaw Patil hesitated.

"Miss Patil?" Professor McGonagall pressed.

"I don't know if it's abuse for certain," the Ravenclaw Patil said slowly, "but I have had a girl tell me that people were picking on her. People who weren't Ravenclaws. I did not do anything drastic about it because she did not lead me to think that it was anything more than verbal tormenting, and the administration here is notably lax about that kind of thing." She did not glare at Professor McGonagall, but Pansy suspected that it was only because she was a Ravenclaw, and thus programmed to be polite to teachers. "I did what I could to handle it internally, as did Terry, and the girl has not returned in several weeks. I had hoped that the problem had ended."

"Miss Patil, you do realize that even verbal abuse is unacceptable?" Professor Dumbledore asked, leaning forward to look severely at the Ravenclaw Patil.

"I do realize that," she said firmly. "but I also realize that often nothing is done. I felt it better for her if I kept her name and situation secret and handled things on my own."

Compelled for some reason to speak up, Pansy declared, "Had the allegations made by my student been less serious, I would have done the same. This is the type of problem for which prefects are created."

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps we have been... less strict than we should have been when it comes to such things," he admitted. Pansy carefully said nothing.

"However," he continued," that will cease now. I want each of you," he looked at each of the girls in turn, "to report to your head of house at the least report of hazing or tormenting, do you understand?"

They all nodded.

"As for your student, miss Parkinson, we will do all that we can to find and prosecute the perpetrators."

Pansy nodded, silently deciding that she would continue investigating on her own. It was not that she did not trust the teachers to do their jobs -- well, she trusted Professor Snape to do his, at least, and that was the important factor -- but she felt that they would not see everything she could, even if they did have ways of sneaking around the castle unseen.

Susan bones looked over at Professor Sprout then, frowning slightly, "Sir, can we really rule out the idea of it being a teacher?"

Pansy frowned. A teacher? She had not even considered the possibility. but, thinking back, Melina's vague, 'bigger people,' could have applied to teachers, not simply older students.

"I don't know about the Slytherin case, but I am fairly certain that my student was dealing with older students, and not teachers," the Ravenclaw Patil declared.

Professor Flitwick nodded. "While we can't completely rule professors out, I don't believe that any of us here would have the... the bad taste to indulge ourselves in such activities," he said, his voice distasteful. "The signs point to older students." He looked sharply at Pansy. "You are certain that it is no one in your house?"

Pansy sighed. "I am certain of nothing," she said tightly. "However, I have spoken with Draco, and he is fairly positive that none of the boys did this, as I am fairly positive that none of the girls did. So, while we cannot be certain, I would say fairly confidently that it is not one of ours."

Professor Snape nodded. "If need be, I will interrogate my students personally, but I choose to believe them in this," he told Professor Dumbledore.

The others all nodded their agreement, though Professor McGonagall looked skeptical. Both Pansy and Professor Snape ignored her.

"Very well, then. Severus, if things come to that, we will count on you to extract the truth from your students," Professor Dumbledore declared. "Until such time as we discover the culprits, I want you all to remind your students to be on their guard, and to report any signs of abuse to us immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

All the prefects nodded.

"Then return to your own houses," Professor Dumbledore said. "And speak to your students."

They all nodded again and rose, exiting the office. Pansy noted that the teachers remained, but she did not really wonder why. It was only natural that Professor Dumbledore would have extra things to say to them.

As they went their separate ways, Granger caught Pansy's eye and motioned for her to wait behind. Curious, Pansy did so, wondering what Granger wanted.

"Keep looking in Slytherin," Granger said shortly. "I know you say that you think none of your house mates did it, but you never know. I'll look in Gryffindor too. Let me know if you find anything."

Pansy nodded and started to leave. Granger stopped her.

"And another thing. Stop tormenting my friends. I mean it, stop. And tell Malfoy to do the same. We're sick and tired of it, and it won't take much more for one of us to lose our tempers completely. I almost did yesterday. You really don't want to be there when Harry loses his temper."

Pansy shrugged. "I do not control Draco's actions," she said shortly.

"I realize that. But you can remind him of a certain incident in which he was turned into a ferret, and add that Harry knows how to do that now."

Pansy frowned. "Ferret?" she asked.

"He'll understand," Granger promised her. "I will see you later." She turned and left, leaving a bemused Pansy staring after her. Ferret incident? Why had she not heard about this before?

Łitsooí Tó


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note: we have not updated. we have broken a promise. we are dirt. read anyway?  
Disclaimer: at least when Ms. Rowling was late, she got _paid_ for it. we have no such luck. we own none of this.  
--kyra

* * *

_

6

Hermione

Hermione wished she did not have to do this. It would ruin her entire plan of simply avoiding Ron until he came begging her to take him back. on the other hand, she was not exactly begging him either. She was here on business, nothing more. _She _would not see it that way, but that was just too bad. Hermione had things to say, and none of them concerned Lavender.

"Ron?" she asked, ignoring Lavender's glare.

Ron looked up at her, a guarded expression crossing his face. "Are you going to yell at me again?" he asked.

"Tempting as that would be, no," she said shortly. "I have something to tell you, and I must do it alone." She glared at Lavender.

"You don't have anything more to say to him," Lavender declared. "He doesn't want to hear from you."

"He can talk for himself," Hermione snapped. "And I have no intention of speaking with you present, so you may as well give up. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back."

"Lav, give us a sec?" Ron asked, looking at the other girl. "I don't think she's going to leave."

"I will not," Hermione agreed.

Lavender glowered at her, before turning to look at Ron with a simpering expression which made Hermione's stomach turn. "Be quick, won-Ron," she begged. "I'll miss you."

"I will," Ron promised. She rose and kissed him firmly, shooting a triumphant look at Hermione as she left.

Watching her go, Hermione observed, "you know, it is usually polite to break up with your girlfriend before getting a new one."

Ron blinked. "I thought we were broken up," he said.

"Not officially," Hermione told him. Then she shook her head. "We can discuss this later. right now, I have news for you." She sat down across from him and cast a quick series of wards.

Ron frowned. "What are those for?"

"To keep out prying ears," she said curtly. Finishing her wards, she leaned back in her chair. "A girl has been abused. Sexually. Inside Hogwarts. Recently. We need to find out who it is and stop them."

Ron's mouth was open in horror. He stayed that way for a long moment, unable to say anything. Hermione said nothing, allowing him to gather himself. Finally, he said, "you're joking, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Pansy Parkinson told me this morning. It's one of hers."

"A Slytherin?" Hermione could feel Ron's sympathy slipping away. "What did she do to provoke them?"

Hermione slapped him. She had not meant to, but she did not regret it either. He stared at her, shocked. "What the...?"

"She 'provoked' them by being muggle born," Hermione hissed icily at him. "And her house is no excuse, none, to think that she does not deserve our help. No, don't deny what you were thinking. I know you too well for that. I'm not Lavender, who falls for you lies."

"You leave Lavender out of this," Ron hissed.

"Fine then," Hermione said with a shrug, finding that it was surprisingly easy to dismiss the other girl. "But it is still no excuse. No girl deserves to be hurt like that, no matter who she is or what she's done. If you don't start remembering that, you'll get more than just a slap on the face, I guarantee you." She undid the wards, standing. "Keep your eyes open for any suspects in Gryffindor."

"Hermione, I don't really think anyone here would do it," Ron began.

She shook her head curtly. "I wouldn't have thought anyone at Hogwarts would do it," she informed him coldly. "But they have. We can't rule anyone out, Ronald. Anyone." She left him sitting there, and watched as Lavender, glaring at her, rushed back to him, draping herself onto his body like a blanket. Disgusted, Hermione turned away, only to find Ginny Weasley, the sixth year prefect, looking at her oddly.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He was being a typical male, that's all," Hermione said dismissively. "I informed him that that attitude was unacceptable."

Ginny crossed her arms, not letting Hermione pass. "I grew up with five older brothers," she reminded Hermione. "There is no such thing as 'typical male.' What exactly did he say?"

Hermione sighed. "It's kind of a long story," she said. It occurred to her that Ginny might be able to help, and hesitated. "How well do you know the girls younger than us?"

"Some of them fairly well, some not at all," Ginny said carefully. "Why?"

Swiftly, Hermione outlined the situation. Ginny's breath caught, especially when Hermione related Ron's reaction. when Hermione had finished, Ginny nodded decisively. "I would have slapped him too," she announced. "I thought he knew better than that."

"So did I," Hermione agreed. "Clearly we were living in a dream world."

"Clearly," Ginny muttered darkly. she sighed. "I'll keep my eyes open," she promised. "And I'll let all the muggle born girls know to be extra careful. Whoever did this might want more, and you never know where they'll look."

Hermione nodded. "Good idea. I'm staying in contact with Padma, Susan, and Pansy Parkinson, so I'll let you know if they find anything."

"Thanks." Ginny paused, then added, "be careful. You're muggle born too, you know." She turned and walked away, stopping to talk quietly with the Gryffindor fifth year prefect as she did so. Hermione watched her go, blood cold. She had momentarily forgotten that crucial piece of information about herself.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: _for the record, everything hermione says in this chapter is based on the american system. i have all of no idea how things are done in britain. i assume they're similar, but i could be completely wrong. if i am, i am so sorry._  
_ooh, another thing. with this chapter, we're offically halfway through the story. with some luck, it should be all finished by the end of this week, since i intend to post chapters at the rate of more than one a day to make up for the long drought. _  
Disclaimer: _you can all recite disclaimers in your sleep by now, i imagine. i don't think i need to add another.  
--kyra

* * *

7

Pansy

Pansy bit her lip as the three girls before her watched, wondering what she would do. In all honesty, she had no idea what to enough that Melina had not said any names, but now she had told her friends to come and confess that they too had been abused and sworn to silence. All younger than fifteen, all muggle born, none willing to name any names. Pansy felt like screaming. She did not, and only thanked the girls for telling her the truth, and promising them that this would never happen again. Like Melina, none of them believed her. She sighed as they left, wondering what it would take to gain their trust. Actually, she did not have to wonder: she knew. Bringing the guilty ones to justice. Unfortunately, that did not seem any closer to happening than it had when Melina first told her.

She sank into her chair, staring glumly at her reflection. Why could she not find anything out? And why did the girls not want to tell her who had done it? Surely they had not all been taken from behind, unable to see who it was. One, maybe, but not four. Pansy groaned, realizing that whoever was doing this must have sworn them to silence somehow. An unbreakable vow? Or just fear? Pansy could not know.

Shaking her head, she rose and moved towards the fireplace, where a fire already burned. She reached up and took a pinch of floo powder from the box on the mantle. Throwing it in, she ordered, "Professor Snape's office." The flames flared green, and Pansy stepped through.

Professor Snape, thankfully, was in his office when she arrived. He looked up, frowning. "To what do I owe the honor of this... unexpected visit?" he asked, coldness concealed by politeness.

"I just heard from three more," Pansy said, not wasting words. "Their stories are similar to Melina's." She had told him Melina's identity during their first meeting, knowing that he would not accept her not saying so. "All are muggle born, and none will say a word, not even to detail the nature of the abuse."

"This makes four now," Professor Snape, turning it into a statement and not a question.

"In Slytherin," Pansy agreed. "I have not heard reports of other cases in other houses."

"Have you been in contact with the other prefects?"

Pansy shook her head. "No. Granger and I agreed to keep each other informed, and I will tell her soon, but I wanted to tell you first."

He nodded. "Good. Go tell her now." he paused, then added, "and next time you see Draco, tell him to come and see me."

Pansy nodded back. "Yes Sir," she said. She turned towards the door, closing it behind her as she left to find Granger.

Granger was, of course, in the library. Pansy did not wait for the head girl to acknowledge her, but repeated the news. Granger stilled.

"And I had one," she said quietly. "I haven't heard from Susan, but Padma confirmed that her girl is one of them too. That makes six, all younger than fifteen." She sighed. "And no suspect."

"You have found no one in Gryffindor?" Pansy asked.

Granger shook her head. "No. Nor in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and you say no one in Slytherin either."

"The teachers?" Pansy suggested, remembering Susan bones' suggestion.

Granger sighed. "Professor McGonagall says that none of them did it. So whoever it is hiding well."

Pansy laughed harshly. "Of course they're hiding well. They managed to get away with it for this long, didn't they?"

"True," Granger agreed. She sighed. "Sometimes, I really hate magic."

Pansy frowned. "What does that mean?" she asked, annoyed.

"Well, if this were a muggle school, we could get the police in to do DNA tests on the girls, or search the school for traces. With magic, those traces can be removed, leaving us with nothing at all."

"But we have veritaserum," Pansy reminded her.

"But we need a suspect to administer it to," Granger countered.

"And your muggle police doesn't?"

She shook her head. "No. Not in a school. You don't need a search warrant to search someone or their belongings. All you need is suspicion of wrongdoing."

"And how is that different from a suspect?"

"Broader range. At this point, everyone in the school is under suspicion of wrongdoing."

"So everyone could be searched?"

Granger inclined her head. "Precisely. I doubt they would do it, since there are a lot of people here, even if it's smaller than most muggle schools, but it would be an option. It's hardly legal to administer veritaserum to every student just because they attend the school."

Pansy nodded. "Indeed," she agreed. Hesitantly, she asked, "do you think muggle school is better than Hogwarts?"

Granger shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "There are positive and negative aspects to both, of course. Hogwarts has the advantage of magic, obviously, as well as more interesting people. On the other hand, academically, muggle school blow Hogwarts out of the water. Because, you see, they teach actual subjects, instead of approximations of those."

"An approximation?" Pansy repeated incredulously.

Granger nodded. "An approximation," she agreed. "In muggle schools, they have proper subjects like maths and literature, not 'history of magic' or divinations."

Pansy laughed. "I suppose," she admitted. "But when will you ever use any of those?"

"Literature teaches you how to write properly," Granger pointed out. "That is something that you wizards could truly use."

"I know how to write!" Pansy objected. "I was taught, as was everyone else."

"To form theletters, yes. Not to _write_." Granger shook her head. "There is a reason my essays are better than everyone else's, you know. I was actually taught how to write them."

"How hard can it be?" Pansy demanded. "You just write words on a page."

Granger laughed. "If you want to fail," she agreed. "A proper essay must be structured and easy to follow. It must contain an introductory paragraph, at the very least, and a thesis statement, followed by the bulk of the paper and a conclusion. A common thread should tie the entire essay together, and the transitions should make sense. If you sketch the essay out, it should resemble an hourglass in focus, with the introduction and the conclusion being broad in scope and the bulk paragraphs being very specific." She paused. "There's probably more, but I don't remember it all now." She shrugged. "I don't need to; it's automatic now."

Pansy was still stuck on the amount of detail Granger had managed to remember. "You were taught all of that in muggle school?" she asked incredulously.

Granger nodded. "I was," she agreed. "Everyone is. I would be willing to bet that, baring wizarding prodigies and muggle idiots, all muggle children can write better essays than wizarding ones, simply because we've been taught how to do it."

Pansy frowned. "'We'?" she repeated. "Are you suddenly reverting to your muggle self?"

Granger winced. "I do that sometimes," she admitted. "Especially when I'm talking about muggle things." She shrugged. "It passes." She glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened. "And I have to go. Thank you for telling me about the girls."

Pansy nodded, and Granger grabbed her things, dashing out of the library to class. Watching her go, Pansy suddenly realized that she had had an entire conversation with Hermione Granger without once attempting to curse or throttle her. That had to be some kind of record.

* * *

_Author's note 2: _if any of you recall, at the end of chapter one i mentioned the rewrite of _Keepers of Wisdom_. it's going well, and we're almost done with it. if all goes as planned, we should have it written and beta-ed by the end of janurary/middle of february, so expect it sometime around then. we'll make a general announcement on our profile page as well.  
--kyra


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note: _anything i have to say should be best be said at the end, so i shall see you then.  
_Disclaimer: _were i to own harry potter, i wouldn't be writing fanfiction about it. or, rather, they'd be called 'sequels' and i would be rich.  
--kyra

* * *

8

Hermione

She watched through narrowed eyes as Ron and Lavender cuddled on the couch of the Gryffindor common room. She had almost become accustomed to the sight, though Lavender's occasional triumphant glances in her direction still stung. She had not, however, gotten over Ron, and as she watched them now, she could not help picturing herself in Lavender's place. She sighed, trying to force the image out of her head. she had been in Lavender's place, in a way, though Ron had certainly never done half the things with her that he did with Lavender. Not that she would have wanted him to, of course. Lavender was just a slut. She had not thought that Ron went for that kind of girl, but then, she sometimes felt that she had never actually known _Ron_, just the image that he put forth to the world. She doubted that he even realized he was doing it, but she could tell.

"You know, you don't have to keep watching them. They're not going to run away."

Hermione turned as Harry sat down next to her. She had, eventually, forgiven him for his non-existent part in the crime he did not commit, but he still tread carefully around her, as though worrying that she would blow up again at the slightest provocation. Hermione did not tell him that that was unlikely; to tell the truth, she rather liked being treated as though she were fragile. It made a nice change from Ronald over there, who, when dating her, simply expected her to be the same as always but also willing to kiss him.

"I know," she said, sighing.

"How goes the investigation?" he asked. She had, of course, told him about the girls. Everyone knew by now, though the identity of the girls had, thankfully, been kept secret.

"Pansy Parkinson heard from three more today," Hermione said grimly. "And still no suspect."

Harry sighed. "Well be careful, okay?" he asked. "Until this guy is caught, we don't know what he could be doing."

Hermione nodded. "I know," she said. "So far, it looks like he's only going after younger girl, so I should be fine."

"Still, be careful," he said firmly. "I don't want anything to happen to you, and with that... that _snake _running loose, you never know what might happen."

"You don't know that he's a Slytherin," Hermione protested. "He could be anyone."

Harry blinked. "I never said he was," he said, frowning.

"You called him a snake," Hermione reminded him.

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, I didn't mean Slytherins in particular."

"You might want to find another insult, then," Hermione suggested. "Or they'll hate you even more than they already do."

Harry laughed. "I didn't realize that was possible."

"Nothing is impossible," Hermione told him firmly. "Especially not when it comes to Slytherins."

He laughed. "Good point." He fell silent, and Hermione could not help glancing back towards Ron and Lavender. They did not see her, did not see anything but each other.

"Hermione." Harry's voice was quiet, but it drew her attention towards him once more.

"Mm?"

He hesitated, not saying anything.

Hermione frowned. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

He nodded. "Don't think about them," he told her, leaning closer. "They don't know any better."

Hermione knew she should lean away, knew that she should tell him that she wasn't interested, that she wanted to be his friend and nothing more, but she could not make her lips move. Besides, she felt deep inside of her a burning desire to get even with Ron, to prove to him that she could find someone else too, that she was not a pathetic girl, clinging to him when he had discarded her.

Harry's lips brushed hers, only for an instant. She did not move until he had pulled away. Distantly, Hermione noted that, instead of going red as Ron had when he first kissed her last summer, Harry had turned pale, as though unable to believe what he had just done.

"Hermione, I..." he began.

she shook her head. "No words," she breathed. "You don't need them." She only hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him for a moment, this time showing him how to do it properly.

* * *

_Author's note 2: _right. so, er, remember at the beginning of the story when i mentioned that this had been written in about 2 days? yeah... this is one of the things that came from my letting them tell me what to do. (yep, i wrote this chapter. -grins-) i hadn't meant for this to happen. but by this point, they'd taken control completely, and, well, this is what happened... bloody characters.  
--kyra


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: _i have little to say about this chapter, to be honest. i just thought that i would admit to not actually knowing who the rapist was at this point in the writing. i may have mentioned this before, but i really honestly did not know his identity until about a chapter before it's revealed. it was a bit of a problem.  
_Disclaimer: _i own nothing, not even my Christmas chocolate, as that has all been eaten.  
--kyra

* * *

9

Pansy

"Draco, you're sure that you don't know anything?" Pansy asked again. She felt bad, grilling him over and over again, but they had no leads at all, and he was her last resort.

"Yes, I'm sure," he snapped. "Honestly Pansy, one would think that you did not believe me."

Pansy sighed. She did not want to come out and tell him that she did not -- she did believe him, of course she did! -- but he might know something. She knew in the depths of her heart that he himself was not a suspect. Not her Draco. Not the one she loved above all others. He would never do a thing like that, never!

"I do believe you," she assured him. "Really. But... well, we don't have any suspects at all, and it's been over a month. Mel... the girls are starting to lose faith that he'll ever be caught. Even though the attacks have stopped, they all think that he'll start again once we stop looking."

Draco grimaced. "That is not my affair. I have asked the others, as you asked me to, and found nothing. I fail to see how it is still my problem what happens to mudbloods who can't take care of themselves."

Pansy blinked, staring at him. He couldn't mean that, just couldn't! He had to be just saying it to be sarcastic. Draco would never dismiss people so easily. not the Draco Pansy knew and loved.

"You can't mean that," she managed.

The look he gave her was hard. "You're a fool if you think that you can do anything, or even that you should," he told her harshly. "I thought you were cleverer than that."

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

He sighed, as though addressing a very small and fairly slow child. "Mudbloods are freaks of nature," he said, every word cutting directly to her core. "They were made to be stepped on. You know that. Oh, they might pretend to be as good as we are, and there are a few freak cases, I'll admit, but mostly they're just scum under our feet." He shrugged. "I don't mean to be callous, but you must see the truth."

Pansy felt herself growing angry, angry despite the shock which filled her. "Do you actually know any muggle borns?" she demanded, deliberately not using that word, the one she had tossed around so easily before. It seemed dirty to her now, tainted by misuse and abuse.

"I do not know any plague victims either," he pointed out harshly. "Yet I know that they hold a danger to me."

"Being muggle born is not contagious," Pansy snapped.

He sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I had hopes for you," he told her. "I thought you would make a good bride, one day. But you must change your outlook before mother would allow me even to bring you home again."

Pansy stared, aghast. What had she done? He had been... considering her? And she had ruined it, ruined it with her stupid comment about stupid mudbloods and their stupid problems. "Draco, I..."

He shook his head. "Forget it," he said flatly. "I don't know what happened to you, but you're not the kind of girl I need now."

"Oh, and I suppose Daphne is that girl?" Pansy spat.

"Daphne?" he seemed genuinely surprised. "No, that is only for entertainment." He shrugged. "I did consider her, but her mother's family is not prominent enough. Her sister might be a candidate, as her mother's bloodline is true, though I would, of course, have to check with mother."

Pansy only shook her head. What had happened to him, to her Draco, to the one who was kind to her and always had time to talk to her? Where had he gone, replaced as he had been by this cold, calculating shadow of his former self.

"I grew up," he told her, and Pansy realized that she must have spoken aloud without realizing. "And possibly you should do the same." He did not even bother nodding a farewell as he strode away, leaving a shocked and numbed Pansy to stare after him.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's note: _There is no excuse for the delay, and I have none to offer. Nor do I ask forgiveness. I simply hope that you will read this anyway, and that you won't shun us completely.  
_Disclaimer: _We are none of us Ms. Rowling, and none of us own the rights to Harry Potter.  
--Tamara

* * *

10

Hermione

Hermione looked up as a shadow fell across the page she was reading, smiling slightly as she saw Pansy Parkinson. this was becoming something of a tradition, she thought as she put the book aside and gestured for Pansy to take a seat. "Have you found anything?"

Pansy shook her head, and Hermione frowned. What was the girl doing here, if she had not found anything? Surely Pansy Parkinson had not come for Hermione's company. That would go against everything set in Hermione's world. She recalled her words to Harry from a few days ago, mentally shaking her head. 'Nothing is impossible,' she had said. 'Especially when it comes to Slytherins.' Apparently she had been more right than she had known.

"Did you need something, then?" Hermione wanted to know.

Pansy said nothing, and Hermione frowned, wondering what she wanted, if she had no information and did not need anything herself. The thought briefly crossed Hermione's mind that the Slytherin prefect had been attacked herself, but she brushed the thought aside. The attacker had gone after muggle born girls under the age of fifteen, and Pansy fit into none of those categories.

Slowly, Pansy reached for her wand. For a wild moment, Hermione thought that the girl would curse her, and she automatically reached for her own wand, but Pansy only cast warding charms, enshrouding the table in silence and privacy. Then, she looked straight at Hermione.

"You are going out with Potter now, aren't you?" she asked bluntly.

Hermione blinked. "Sorry?"

"You and Potter are together, am I correct?" Pansy repeated.

Hermione shrugged slowly. "We haven't exactly defined it yet," she said. "But I suppose you could say that yes, we're 'together.'" She had kissed him again the night before, though it had not gone any farther. Neither had broached the subject of 'dating' yet, though Hermione supposed that the entire school thought that they were. She found that she did not mind that.

"And are you over Weasley?"

Hermione frowned. What was Pansy getting at? "Yes," she said automatically. Then she paused, examining her emotions. More slowly, she added, "And no, I suppose. I think I'll always like him a little bit, or even more than that, but I've moved on." She shrugged again. "Why do you ask?'

Pansy did not answer, looking down at the table. Hermione cast her mind back, trying to think what would bring Pansy here to talk about Hermione's love life, of all things. Slowly, she asked, "Did something happen with Malfoy?"

Pansy's head shot up. "How did you know that?" she demanded.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, that's the only thing I can think of that makes sense in the context of your present conversation with me. and I don't think I'm incorrect in guessing that you are... fond of him."

Pansy laughed harshly. "Fond of him," she said bitterly. "Yes, I suppose I am, 'fond of him.'" She shook her head. "What a quaint way of putting it."

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "So how would you categorize it?" she asked, honestly curious and wondering if Pansy would answer.

She did. "I love him," she said bluntly. "I would lay down my life for him, and I have always been willing to do so. I would do anything for him, anything."

"And how does he feel?"

The bitter laugh returned. "He was considering me," she said. "Actually considering marrying me. And then I opened my mouth and told him that I was worried about the girls, and I've fallen from the list." She shook her head. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't, apparently."

Hermione's gaze hardened. "Let me guess. He doesn't care because they're muggle born?"

Pansy nodded.

Hermione sighed. "Meaning no offense to you, but he's a bloody bastard."

Pansy was startled into real laughter. "My my Granger," she said. "I never knew you knew the words."

Hermione could not help but to laugh back. "Oh, I know the words," she assured Pansy. "I know them and I know how to use them. Just because I don't choose to most of the time doesn't mean that I am not capable of it."

"Clearly," Pansy agreed. "And, meaning no offense to you, of course, but I would say much the same about Weasley."

Hermione sighed, but nodded. "I can't help but agree with you there," she admitted.

"And I with Draco," Pansy agreed. Both girls sighed again, looking down.

Suddenly, Hermione looked up, asking, "Wait a minute. I'm not saying that I'm not willing to talk with you about this, but why are you here?"

"To be brutally honest, I am not certain," Pansy admitted. "But it seemed somehow the logical choice, what with your experience with Weasley."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose that makes sense," she admitted. "And, as I said, I'm more than happy to listen to you." She grinned slightly. "That is, after all, what the head girl is for."

Pansy was startled into a smile of her own. "True," she agreed. She hesitated, then added, "Tell me this, Granger. how do you live with it, when you see him with someone else?"

Hermione sighed. "I cope," she said. "I know that isn't helpful, but it's the truth. I've learned to live with it. He's not mine any longer, and I can't control him. If he wants to spend his year with her, well, I can't change that. And now I have Harry, and that helps a lot."

"At least you had Weasley for a little while," Pansy said. Her voice was not bitter, more speculative, almost jealous.

"And look where it got me," Hermione pointed out. "Broken hearted and oblivious to the goings on around me." Ahe grimaced. "Maybe if I'd been less preoccupied with Ron, I'd have noticed when the younger girls started looking scared."

Pansy nodded. "As I would have, had I not been so focused on Draco and Daphne."

Hermione sighed. "So we were both obsessed with our own troubles and missed those of the girls we were meant to be leading." She shook her head. "Pretty pathetic pair of prefects we are, aren't we?"

Pansy nodded. "So it would seem."

They lapsed into silence once more, not speaking again until Pansy rose. "Thank you," she said hesitantly. "For your words and your time."

Hermione nodded. "Of course," she said. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

Pansy laughed her harsh, bitter laugh. "I didn't have the choice," she said. "It was tell you or Millicent Bulstrode, and I thought you had less of a chance of cursing me than she."

Hermione grinned. "Well, then I'm glad that I am considered a safer option than Millicent Bulstrode." She stood as well. "And I hope you find someone of your own, to take your mind off of Draco."

Pansy shook her head a little sadly. "No one can replace Draco," she said simply. "I am not even planning on trying."


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note: _This was an interesting chapter. I don't remember if I told you or not, but I didn't actually know who the rapist was while I was writing it. Hence his formal, flowery language, which entertained me, even if it might be construed as OOC later on when you learn who it is. (No, that's not in this chapter, sadly). Hope you like it anyway.  
_Disclaimer: _None of us are Ms. Rowling, and none of us own Harry Potter.  
--Tamara

* * *

11

Pansy

Pansy stilled as she made her way towards the great hall. What was that sound? It sounded like... but no. It couldn't be. not here, at this time of day. No one would be crazy enough to violate a girl during dinner!

She turned from her path and hurried towards the source of the noise, not sure whether she hoped it was their abuser or not. If it was, then she would at least see him, would know who he was. But if it was not, then it meant that another girl was safe, that one more person had not been violated by this... this monster.

She rounded a corner, then stopped dead. It couldn't be. but it was. Hermione Granger stood, pinned to the wall, struggling furiously against invisible bonds. Her robes were still on her, but Pansy guessed that they would not be for much longer.

"Filthy mudblood," the man before her spat. Pansy frowned, recognizing the voice but unable to place it. "You don't belong here, shouldn't be with the real witches and wizards, those who earned their place here though generations of blood and talent. You're just a freak, an anomaly of nature who shouldn't even exist."

Granger's struggles redoubled, and the attacked laughed. "Fight all you want," he said, sounding pleased. "I like it better when you fight. The others, they were too easy, too frightened. But you... you're something different. You're afraid of me, yes, but not in the same way." He almost seemed to be talking to himself. "Of course, you are older than they are, and have seen your fair share of horror, what with your adventures with Potter and Weasley." He laughed. "Compared to the Dark Lord, I suppose I am but a petty threat."

He came closer, almost touching her. "Just wait, mudblood. You'll see that I can be threat enough, enough for you and for all the other filthy little mudbloods who think they belong here."

Pansy watched in horror as he ran a hand against Granger's cheek. She should do something, she knew, should fight him or call for help or something, but she could do nothing. She was frozen to the spot, watching in horror as the almost familiar stranger caressed Granger's flesh.

Granger tried to jerk away, tried to force him to leave, but he only came closer, laughing softly. "You're almost pretty when you're angry," he purred.

She tried to say something, but the bonds apparently gagged her as well, and she could do nothing but glare murderously at him. He seemed not to notice, or maybe he enjoyed it. He moved in closer, all but whispering in her ear. If Pansy had not known better, she would have thought that they were true lovers, meeting in private for a quick assignation.

"I wasn't going to take you," he murmured to Granger. "But then you started poking your nose in where you shouldn't have, and I had no choice. Why couldn't you just have left things they way they were? No one cares about the little mudbloods except you. They need to be taught that they don't belong." The voice grew harsher. "just as you need to be taught that you don't belong." He snarled then, pressing her hard against the wall. "you think you're so much better than we are, don't you? You think you're all that, just because you get high marks on your lessons." He spat into her face, and she winced, trying to shake the spittle out of her eyes. He laughed again. "But I know how you do it," he shrieked hoarsely. "I know what you do, you little slut. You're all the same, you mudbloods. You won't admit that you're not worthy of being here, and so you try to cheat your way to the top. You make me sick, all of you."

Granger continued struggling, but even Pansy could see that it was useless. The mystery assailant laughed again, then leaned down, crushing Granger's lips against his. Pansy cried out softly, but he did not hear her. Granger's struggles had slowed, and she slumped against her bonds, letting him do what he wanted to her.

Suddenly, another, much more familiar voice came sharply down the hallway. "Stop."

Pansy turned, eyes wide, to see Draco, her Draco striding furiously down the hallway. Without a word, he ripped the boy off of Granger and spun him around roughly. Before Pansy's eyes, Draco pulled out his wand and snarled, "Just what did you think you were doing?"

The assailant gulped, suddenly looking far less menacing than the slim blond before him. "Draco, I…"

"You nothing," Draco spat. "You make me sick. How dare you touch a woman so? You're lucky that I'm bound by custom, or you would be missing crucial equipment by now."

The assailant tried to back away, but Draco grabbed his robes, keeping him in place. "Don't even think about running," he advised harshly. "You are coming with me." Still holding onto the boy's robes, Draco turned and stalked away, the assailant following slowly behind.

The moment they had turned the corner, Pansy went hesitantly to Hermione, who looked at her through glassy eyes. Pansy pulled out her wand, undoing the bindings that held the Gryffindor head girl in place. Hermione slumped forward, and Pansy caught her, carefully lowering her to the ground.

"it's all right," Pansy said desperately. "Granger… Hermione, he's gone. You're safe now."

Hermione said nothing, and Pansy looked around, wondering why no one was coming. Had her Gryffindor friends not noticed that she was missing? Why did they not come looking for her? Suddenly, she realized that, if they were to come looking for Hermione, then Pansy would be implicated in the attack. No one would believe her if she said that she was innocent, not unless Hermione managed to name her assailant.

"Stay here," Pansy said desperately. "I'll go find Potter." She turned and raced down the corridor, bursting into the great hall. Looking around wildly, she spotted Potter at the Gryffindor table. He, like everyone else in the room, was staring at her. She ignored the stares, and hurried towards him.

"Come," she ordered. "Come now. Granger's been attacked, and I think she's in shock."

Potter rose, eyes wide. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"In the hall just outside," Pansy said, weak with relief that he did not seem to be condemning her. He did not even seem to see her, but ran out of the great hall. Pansy watched him go, wondering what to do now. She wanted to go back to Hermione, to make certain the girl was all right, but she did not dare interrupt Potter. She looked up, only to find the entirety of Gryffindor house glaring down at her.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: _Very little to say. Two more chapters to come.  
_Disclaimer: _Not one of us is Ms. Rowling, nor do we own any rights.  
--Tamara_

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_

12

Hermione

Hermione blinked, looking around. Where was she? The hospital wing. It had to be the hospital wing. Nowhere else had so many beds like this. Besides, she was in her pajamas, and she was certain that she had not gone down to dinner wearing them. She winced, and turned her thoughts away from dinner. She did not want to think about that, not now, not ever.

"Hermione!"

She turned her head to see Harry sitting by her bed, looking relieved. "You're awake," he exclaimed.

"Apparently," she murmured. "What... how long have I been here?"

"About two days," Harry told her. "You weren't physically too injured, but you were in shock, and Madam Pomfrey gave you sleeping potions to help your mind heal. You've been asleep since then."

"Do they know who it was?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "We were hoping you knew something," he admitted. "I know it's painful, but try to remember. Did you recognize him at all?"

Hermione shook her head convulsively. How could he ask her to remember what had happened? How could he even think that she could bear to go back to that place? He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

"I don't know," she said harshly. "I didn't see him."

"Not even a little?"

"No," she snapped. "Nothing at all." She turned away. "Let me sleep."

He sighed, but stood. "All right. Come back to Gryffindor soon, 'Mione. I miss you."

She said nothing, pretending to be asleep. Only when she was certain he had left did she turn over again, looking dully across at the empty beds before her. She had never spent much time in here, and now she knew why she had always been grateful for that. How could you get better when you were constantly looking at things designed for the ill?

sSe sighed, closing her eyes. Moments later, they sprung open, and she shivered. Sleep would not be friendly for quite a while, what with the attacker's face looming up at her every time she closed her eyes. She wondered how long a human could physically go without sleep. Then she remembered that she was in the hospital wing. She would not be allowed to simply stay awake, but, then, she would not have to. She half sat up, looking over at Madam Pomfrey's office.

The plump matron saw her, and bustled over immediately. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I don't hurt," Hermione said honestly. "But I was wondering if you could give me some dreamless sleep potion."

Madam Pomfrey frowned down at her. "I can't give you too much," she warned. "Or you'll be dependent on it."

Hermione nodded. "I know. But just a little bit?"

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, then nodded. Hermione sighed with relief as a small vial of liquid appeared and was handed to her. She drank it down, eyes closing as she did so. She just barely had time to hand it back to Madam Pomfrey before falling asleep, her slumber blissfully uninterrupted by dreams.

* * *

"Are you ever going to leave this place, or has Madam Pomfrey simply adopted you?"

Hermione looked over at the sound of the now familiar voice, smiling slightly at Pansy. Though no one had told her -- no one dared talk to Hermione about that night, and she liked it that way -- she knew that it had been Pansy who had saved her. "I rather like it here," Hermione said, nodding for Pansy to take a seat. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long," Pansy said with a shrug. "Why is she still keeping you here?"

"I don't want to leave."

"And why not?"

Hermione sighed, glancing away. "I don't want to go back to Gryffindor," she admitted tiredly. "And the longer I stay away, the worse it'll get."

"It will indeed," Pansy agreed. "Though if you stay here long enough, you may miss exams."

Hermione winced. "No, I won't do that," she said. "I can't afford to miss exams. I suppose I should go back to class too, but that would be just as bad."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You know, this 'pity me' attitude is starting to get old, Granger, and I've been speaking to you for less than two minutes."

"What does that mean?" Hermione demanded, stung.

"It means that you are not the center of the universe," Pansy snapped. "While you may have had a terrible experience, it is no worse than that which the other girls experienced. In some cases, yours was better. And, while they may feel sorry for themselves, they do not mope about as you do."

"I am _not _moping," Hermione snapped.

"No, now you are complaining," Pansy agreed harshly. "And it is not any more becoming."

Hermione scowled. "How would you know what it's like?" she demanded. "You weren't the one attacked."

"No, I was not," Pansy agreed. "But I know that it cannot be good to dwell on it as you are. If you do not let go, then it will haunt you forever. Personally, I would rather not be haunted by something like that forever, but, then, you may have a different opinion." She shrugged and rose. "When you care to be rational once more, I will be happy to speak to you again." She turned to go.

"Wait!" Hermione said, half rising again.

Pansy paused. "Yes?"

"The... him. Did they catch him?"

Pansy inclined her head. "We did."

"Who was it?"

Pansy hesitated, then told her. Hermione nodded. "I thought it might be something like that," she said, sinking back into the bed. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank me later, when you're back to normal," Pansy said briskly, and left the infirmary. Hermione turned her back on the door, trying not to think about what she had just learned. It did make sense, though she would not have thought that he would sink that low. He might be stupid, yes, but even he was not _that_ stupid. She shook her head. Clearly he was, and there was nothing she could do about that. She resolutely put him from her mind and started going over her last charms lesson, wondering how much she had missed and how long it would take to catch up.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's note: _A fun chapter. Or perhaps I'm just morbid.  
_Disclaimer: _We are not Ms. Rowling, nor do we own Harry Potter. We do, however, own the ritual preformed by Professor Snape, which, if anyone likes, may be used with our permission.  
--Tamara

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13

Pansy

She stood with Draco before Professor Snape, wincing as he glared daggers into her skull. Goyle, looking even more frightened than Pansy felt, cowered in a corner. Professor Snape did not even dignify him with a glance.

"I have a very hard time believing that neither of you knew of this," Professor Snape said coldly, looking from Pansy to Draco, eyes blackened ice. "Especially you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "And yet I assure you, had I known, I would have put a stop to it more quickly. His actions tarnished the image of our house, and that is unacceptable."

'Especially because tarnishing the image of the house also tarnishes your image,' Pansy thought darkly, glancing over at him. 'And we could never have that.'

"And you, miss Parkinson?" Professor Snape demanded.

"Had I known, I would have come to you immediately," Pansy insisted. "And I would not have brought the others into this. As Draco said, he tarnishes the image of our House, and if I had known his identity, it would have been simpler to deal directly with you, and thus avoid all of the fuss and publicity."

Professor Snape sneered at them both, then rounded on Goyle. "What have you to say for yourself?" he snarled. "What possessed you to think that your behavior was even remotely palatable, not to mention acceptable?"

Goyle whimpered, trying to back up. Draco's wand was out and pointed at his throat before he could move, and he froze, trying to decide whether he was more frightened of Draco or of Professor Snape.

"I am waiting for an answer," Professor Snape said icily. "I am very interested in what you have to say for yourself."

Goyle gulped, looking down. Finally, he blurted, "I was doing it to follow his legacy!"

"Elaborate," Professor Snape said shortly.

Goyle looked up blankly, and Professor Snape snarled something incomprehensible under his breath. "Explain yourself, you fool!" he snapped.

"Slytherin's," Goyle said, his voice dangerously close to a whine. "I was doing what he wanted. I was driving the stupid, filthy mudbloods out of here, like he said to."

"Slytherin _never_ hurt the students!" Pansy cried out, starting towards him. "And he would hate what you have done. He cared for all students, muggle born or not!"

"Silence, Miss Parkinson," Professor Snape snapped. Pansy fell quiet, retreating once more. Professor Snape turned back to Goyle. "Your actions were disgusting and unsuited for a member of the noble House of Slytherin." His voice was cold, and Pansy felt shivers run up her spine. She knew what this meant. Everyone knew. But she had never expected to witness it. This ritual, this punishment was arcane, ceremonial only. It had not been used for years.

Goyle knew what was coming too, and he began to tremble, tears running down his face and mingling with snot to form a dirty pool on the collar of his robes. Professor Snape watched him impassively, not reacting.

"Please!" Goyle blubbered. "Please not that! I'm sorry! I'm _sorry_!"

"Your apologies will help no one," Professor Snape informed him icily. "Nor will your pleas for clemency. Had you wanted clemency, you should have granted it to the girls you violated." He looked at Draco and Pansy. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, do you witness the deed and accept the penalty?"

Both Pansy and Draco nodded. Pansy felt herself slowly becoming entangled in the ritual, her agreement sealing her to Goyle's fate in a way she would never be able to undo.

Professor Snape turned back to Goyle. "In the power vested in me by Salazar Slytherin himself, granted to me by the agreement of the senior members of our noble House, I declare you unsuited to life among us, and thus, by definition, among wizard-kind. You are hereby banished from our society, stripped of your magic and your memory, and turned loose into the muggle world to build a different life there." His voice did not change tone or volume, but Pansy could feel the ancient magics filling the room, magics placed there by the founders, magics rushing towards Goyle, sucking greedily, tugging at his magic, pulling and yanking, feeling that they would soon grow in number and wanting it.

"In the name of Salazar Slytherin, founder and protector of our noble House, I give permission to the ancient forces present in this world to suck you dry, to drink your magic, and to leave you empty, eternally thirsty for that which you once had and can no longer remember."

Pansy blinked as the magics rushed at Goyle, surrounding him, smothering him, enshrouding him. He screamed, a long, high scream that made her shudder. On and on it went, growing louder and higher every second until Pansy could not bear it any longer. She brought her hands to her ears, pressing and pressing, trying to block out the noise, but it continued, piercing her brain and addling her wits. Pansy sank to her knees, tears running down her face as she prayed, truly prayed, for the terrible scream to stop.

Finally, slowly, it did. the magics retreated, and all that remained was Goyle, lying on the ground, crying raggedly. Unmoved, Professor Snape strode over and picked him up, setting him on his feet with a strength Pansy had not realized he possessed. Silently, he marched the still crying boy out of the room, shadowed by Draco and Pansy.

Through the silent school they walked, stopped by none. Those who saw them winced and shied away, perhaps frightened of Professors Snape's thunderous face. Pansy did not blame them. She herself wished she could leave, but she knew she could not. So she continued, following Draco and Professor Snape out of the school and to the edge of the grounds. Once they had crossed over the boundary, Professor Snape looked at Goyle.

"Have you any last words?" he asked.

Goyle shook his head, still weeping.

Professor Snape nodded. "Very well. Obliviate!"

His wand flashed, and Pansy blinked, trying to get the light out of her eyes. Before her, Goyle stood, disorientated and obviously confused.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You are lost," Professor Snape said shortly. "Your name is Gregory, and you were hiking. You became separated from your group and wandered here. Turn around and make your way back to the village."

"What are you doing here?" Goyle asked, looking at the three Slytherins.

"Guarding the ruins from tourists," Professor Snape said. "You are not welcome here, and night comes early. Leave, and do not return."

Goyle seemed to sense that Professor Snape was serious, and he nodded, turning and stumbling away. They watched him go, none of the three saying anything.

At last, Professor Snape turned and started back for the castle. Pansy and Draco followed him. They separated as they reached the door to the castle, all going to different places, and knowing without saying a thing that this would never be mentioned between them. Pansy herself would do her very best to forget about it. But first, she had to find Melina and the others, and tell them that she had kept her promise. Grimly, Pansy made her way towards the entrance to the common room, hoping that they were all there.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note: _Welcome to this, the final chapter. Please fasten your seat belts, place your seats in an upright position, and ensure that any hand luggage is stowed either in the overhead lockers or the seat in front of you. We hope you have enjoyed your journey and we hope you will soon be reading with us again.  
_Disclaimer: _We own nothing whatsoever, sadly.  
--Tamara, kyra, Caroline, and Marianne.

* * *

14

Hermione

Slowly, Hermione rejoined the rest of the school. Just as she had feared, the student population treated her as though she were made of glass for far too long, treading softly around her and seeming to be careful not to upset her. Only Pansy Parkinson refused to coddle her, and Hermione found herself spending more time than she would have believed possible with the Slytherin prefect. Goyle had vanished without explanation, and, though Hermione felt certain that Pansy knew where he had gone, the girl refused to discuss it, and Hermione did not ask. In the end, she felt that it was probably best not to know.

Eventually, people moved on, and Hermione's life outwardly returned to what it had been before. She did break things off with Harry, saying that she could not handle being in a relationship anymore. He seemed to understand, though she did catch him watching her from time to time, eyes concerned. She never could decide whether it was the look of a friend or a lover, and she did not spend any time trying to decode his looks. She was far too afraid of the answer she would get for that.

The term drew to a close, and Hermione discovered just how much she had missed during her long stay at the hospital wing. She worked harder than she had ever had to before to catch up and, even though Ron -- still firmly attached to Lavender Brown -- informed her that she would get top marks in everything, she could not help staying up till all hours of the night, cramming desperately.

Exams came and went and, as Ron had predicted, Hermione passed them all with flying colors. Harry treated them to a day in Hogsmeade to celebrate and, though she was initially wary, he was nothing but a friend. Sitting there, just the three of then, Hermione could almost think that nothing had happened, that they were back to where they had been before, before she and Ron started dating, before Ron dumped her for Lavender, before Goyle started preying on muggle born girls. Almost. Every so often, even that day, something would jump out at her, someone would say something, and she would be sent back to that moment. Having read up on this the moment she left the hospital wing, Hermione suspected that this was to be expected, and resolved simply to deal with it. Harry dealt with his demons, and Hermione would deal with hers.

At last, they stood once more on the platform of king's cross station, looking at each other.

"Hard to believe that this is the last time we'll do this," Harry said soberly.

Hermione nodded.

"It's not like we're never going to see each other again," Ron complained. Hermione suspected that he just wanted to go to Lavender, who had been barred from this final parting. When neither Hermione nor Harry answered, he added, "Right?"

Hermione nodded again. "I'll keep in touch," she promised.

Harry nodded as well. "Yeah. And, you know, feel free to stop by." Harry, eager to get out of his aunt and uncle's house as soon as possible, had purchased a small flat in muggle asked why he did not choose to live in Grimauld place, he had only glared darkly and demanded, "Would you?" To that, Hermione had no answer.

"I will," she said. "Mum wants me to enroll in University, so I'll be busy." She made a face. "Though I think I'll spend a year relearning what I should have learned in muggle school first."

Ron blinked. "Why?" he demanded. "What's wrong with what you learned at Hogwarts?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you want to spend your life in the wizarding world, nothing at all. If you want to go to muggle university, it's not very useful. Arithmancy almost translates, thankfully, and my writing is good enough to pull off. I haven't read any classics, but I can write that off as an experimental curriculum." She sighed. "It's history that will give me the real problem," she admitted. "I never was good at dates."

Ron stared at her. "You, not good at something?" he asked, eyes wide.

She nodded.

Harry laughed. "Don't work too hard," he advised. "If you don't write to me within a month, I'll invite myself to your house and kidnap you for the weekend."

Hermione laughed. "I'll keep in touch," she promised.

They stood, a little awkwardly, looking at each other. What did you say to the people you had known for almost half of your life, to the people you had grown up with, to the people who had saved your life as many times as you had saved theirs? How could you sum up seven years' worth of memories in a few short moments?

At last, Ron said, "Well, er, you know. See you around?"

Harry and Hermione nodded, and he left, going to wrap an arm around Lavender's waist and introduce her to his mother. Hermione had heard them planning this, had heard Ron assuring her that his mum would love her. He had never said that to _her_. She ignored this thought, sensing that it was habit, not true jealousy. Somehow, without realizing it, she had gotten over Ron Weasley.

She and Harry looked at each other, not saying anything. Finally, Harry sighed. "I guess this is it, then?"

She nodded. "I will write," she swore. "I'll even call, if you give me your number."

"I, er, don't actually have a phone yet?" he tried. "I do have a fireplace, though."

She laughed. "Well, I don't, so get a phone if you want to hear from me in a way other than owl post."

He nodded. "I'll get right on that." he hesitated, then added, "Good luck, Hermione."

She nodded back. "Good luck Harry," she whispered back. Abruptly, she turned and, dragging her lightened trunk by one hand, left him standing on the platform and passed through the barrier to rejoin her parents, who smiled at her and led her to the car which would take her home.


End file.
